Broken Wings
by Diamond Mask
Summary: SPOILERS. A young Seymour Guado visits the Baaj temple, for the first and final time.


**Broken Wings**

**Summary:** A young Seymour Guado visits the temple one last time where the soul of his mother is entombed.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy X or any of the respective characters.

**Warnings:** None that I can think of.

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The temple had been beautiful once.

Now, ravaged by time and the elements, the holy place stood alone midst the ruins. Ruins of forgotten homes; forgotten lives that had long since withered and died. All was enshrouded in wreaths of mist that drifted lovingly amongst crumbled stone and cracked pillars. The endless sea that surrounded this island was murky and gray, but the temple still rose proudly above the waters, the pillars housing its entrance forever tall.

There was only one pathway to the Baaj temple, and it was a path seldom walked by summoners and their guardians, for little was known about its existence outside of the quiet bubble where it dwelt. Also, the fayth that had resided within had long since faded into obscurity.

Nine years before, two people had walked this path together. But only one had returned.

The waters of the dark ocean had steadily risen since the maester had walked this path with his beloved wife, and now engulfed it greedily from view, denying entrance to those who sought the great power sealed within the temple. But now they swirled, churning in confusion, at the strange thrill rippling from a solitary figure standing amongst the waves.

The young man, precisely seventeen years of age, walked confidently across the waters, every step producing a ripple that caused the sea to quiver in rage and indignation. He was unmistakably a Guado, but his handsome features were softer, more refined than the rough lines of his people. This, and his sapphire blue eyes, had been a gift from his human mother. He had also been blessed with a long limbed grace, and had not been cursed with the twisted, whorled appearance of a pure blooded Guado. The elegant markings on his face, a sure sign of his Guado heritage, only served to accentuate his beauty as a man.

Seymour was, in short, a perfect creation of two very different worlds.

With one hand held outward, a tiny sphere of magic floated above his smooth palm, solidifying the water beneath his feet. The allure of the magic gently coaxed the restless sea into defying its own natural state and a certain awareness living within the water, fought to resist but failed against the sheer enormity of his will.

Now, he gazed with disdain upon the final resting place of the woman he had long ago ceased regarding as his mother. Upon reaching the door to the temple, he placed one palm on the carved stone, willing it to open. The door opened reluctantly with a groan, unable to refuse entrance to the powerful touch of a summoner.

Inside, the temple was dark and gloomy, eerie even to one who professed to be brave. Although ornate carvings were etched onto the walls, depicting great summoners and courageous guardians, they inspired no comfort. The only sound was the steady drip of water, echoing from a place deep within the bowels of the temple.

Seymour ignored all this, walking with purposeful strides towards the center, the Chamber of the Fayth. Since the age of ten, he had been awaiting this moment, the moment when he would once again look upon the face of the woman who had birthed him. And he wondered whether it would still be the same beautiful, kind face that he still remembered in his dreams.

The same blue eyes that haunted him whenever he gazed into a mirror.

Lost in reminiscent thoughts, he brushed them away carelessly when the winged doors of the chamber loomed before him. Gracefully, he performed the ritual prayer of Yevon and the translucent wings fluttered as they drew back to reveal the Fayth.

With a ghostly calm, Seymour entered the domain of a woman long since gone in body.

He stood before the softly glowing orb curving above the temple floor and for an instant, his breath caught in his throat.

She stood there, the very essence of her being shining from her preserved beauty and soul. Exactly as Seymour remembered her: the familiar curve of her cheek, the smile that had soothed him time after time in his misery, the laughing eyes that had been his comfort, the source of his forgotten joy…

But the wraithlike shimmer of her appearance betrayed the lie presented to him, and a wave of nausea swept over him.

"Hello… mother."

"…Seymour? My dear son_…_" her faint voice was filled with a terrible longing and she held out one transparent hand beseechingly to him. "You have grown so much…" she sounded surprised, as if she still thought of him as the scared little boy who had lived in fear and disgust of what he was.

He took a step backwards, tasting revulsion in his mouth. "That is what tends to happen to the young, mother. Or have you lost more than just your body? Your rationality, perhaps?"

Her smile faded at the bitterness blatantly exposed in his voice, and the sneer that twisted his handsome face into the mask of a stranger. "You look well," she said tentatively. "More handsome than I believed you would grow up to be."

An odd smile curved his lips. "Certainly a valued gift from you and Father. The people of Spira seem to be more trusting and supportive when they look upon beauty. Even if they look upon a half breed."

A shudder ran visibly through her translucent form at the mention of her former husband. "Jyscal…" she murmured sadly.

"You might be glad to know that he does not keep the company of other women since he brought you here. He prefers to immerse himself into the arms of Yevon, instead of the embrace of a woman. Did you know that, mother? That he would honor his marriage vows by not taking another woman to bed while you still wandered so far from the Farplane?"

"The moment we came here, Jyscal was freed from his vows. It is not by my will that he abstains, Seymour. Your father knows and understands this, yet this is his choice"

"Ah, yes. The choice to seal his wife into a living tomb."

"Seymour, please do not blame him for what was my decision_."_

"Are mothers in the habit of abandoning their children? Was that your _decision_?" his voice was rising, his previous calm quickly draining away from him.

"You must understand. I was dying, and this was the only path that I could take, that would allow me to protect you long after my body was gone_." _

"The hell with your protection, I needed you! I needed you there with me! Do you know what you did to me, mother? What you did to your only son? You threw me to the wolves!"

"That was never my intention, Seymour. I thought that by becoming a fayth, gifting you with the power of a summoner, I could give you the respect and admiration that you deserved as the son of a Guado lord! Is that what you came here for, Seymour, to condemn me for what I did _for_ you?_"_

Unexpectedly, he smiled. "No, mother. I came here to thank you."

Thrown by the statement, she only stared at him, confusion and dread flitting across her ghostly features. His blue eyes frosted over at the look on her face, cold creeping steadily into his mind, clutching his soul with dead fingers. She felt it, as surely as it held her in its grasp. And in that moment, her heart broke.

The man standing before her was not her son.

"Who are you_?"_ she asked in a broken whisper.

"I am the one who will save Spira from despair, from the spiral of death." His voice took on a dreamlike quality, an excited flush staining his cheeks.

Seymour moved forward slowly and his mother flinched, even though he could not touch her. "I must admit, mother, seeing you does bring back memories. Unpleasant ones, to be sure."

He reached out one hand, tracing the faint lines of her hazy cheek, imagining that he could still feel the faded glow of warmth that had once emanated in flames from her.

"But why dwell on ancient history? The past is behind us. I can only look to the future, is that not so, mother? And I wanted to start by coming here, since it is only fitting that you should be the first to know."

She watched him silently; dread seeping into her light blue eyes and darkening them to a deep turquoise.

"I still remember what it felt like the first time I summoned Anima…do you?"

The incredible rush of strength had been intoxicating, a potent drug coursing through his veins. A glorious flood of raw energy that had filled every fiber of his being, it had been sex, power, spirit and pleasure all in one delicious torrent. The sight of the mighty beast had only fuelled the obsession that had quickly followed.

"Yes_…"_

She had been able to feel everything through the intense connection between summoner and aeon, and believed that in that moment she had made a terrible mistake. The rage and hatred that had been festering inside her son had been unleashed in an explosion of dark energy that had struck the unfortunate target of his wrath.

He favored her with a smile of pleasure. "No Guado dared to speak of my mixed heritage after that little demonstration. I received the respect that I deserved, mother. Do you not feel proud?"

She shivered at the glint of madness in his eyes. _"_Is respect garnered out of fear and intimidation worth anything to you, Seymour? Is that what you learned from me?_" _

"I wanted respect and I _have_ it. These people are sheep: misguided, confused. And I intend to become their shepherd, I will save them from their miserable existence, I will set them _free_."

"Through pain? Through _death_?"

A soft smile illuminated his handsome face. "Soon I will become the High Priest of Macalania temple. And a Maester of Yevon, since I have been told by so many that I have such a promising future as a leader of the Guado."

"Your father knows of what you have become," she whispered. "He will not allow you to poison the people of Spira. He has felt the darkness clouding your judgment, your heart!_"_

"Perhaps he has. Even so, he had done nothing of the sort, to confront me, or prevent me from entering the service of Yevon. Do you know, mother, when was the last time he even _looked_ in my direction?"

Sadness clouded her eyes when she heard the bitterness he was trying so unsuccessfully to hide in his voice.

"Or when was the last time he shared a simple meal with me? No, he never has time. But he always has time to sympathize with a bleeding heart that has lost their way in Yevon, or whirl away on a diplomatic pilgrimage to some far off corner of Spira! He never once asked me if I wanted to go with him! He gives his life to them, until he has nothing left to give to his own son!"

"He would never do anything to harm you intentionally, Seymour… he loves you_." _

His face twisted in angry resentment. "If he truly did care for me," he said quietly, "Then he would not have stolen my mother from me, when I needed her most."

A translucent tear trailed down her pale cheek and another clung to her lashes, glimmering brightly. _"_I know he loves you,_"_ she repeated stubbornly.

"It no longer _matters _to me if he does or does not. Don't you see, mother? What I have become because of you? Anima gives me the strength to do what must be done to relieve the pain of my people, to release Spira from endless torment! Father cannot understand that, he lacks the true vision to lead Yevon. But, I…" he paused, savoring the words as he spoke them. "I will be their savior. I will become **Sin** itself."

"You will become _Sin_? How? Will you sacrifice yourself on a false pilgramage? Will you allow a summoner to die without honor, without dignity?"

"No, mother! Why can you not understand? This act will honor the summoner beyond all who came before them, they will have saved Spira from living an eternity of fear!"

"Seymour, this is madness!" It was a mark of her former strength as a living woman that she defied him now, in spite of the betrayal she felt as his mother.

The insane gleam in his burning blue eyes only pained her further, a deep ache that stabbed her heart.

He seemed angry and clenched his fists, the pointed nails digging into his fists. "I thought you would be able to understand. You must understand, mother. I do this for you! If Spira is at rest, you need no longer remain a fayth. You can be with me forever! All of Spira will _bow_ before us."

The human woman slumped, her eyes desolate pools of twin sadness. "My beautiful boy… my only child… what happened to you? Was this my doing?"

With great control, he forced himself to look at the tears she shed and felt a twinge of regret. "Mother…"

The soft pleading in his voice made her raise her head, and she gazed directly into his eyes, the mirror of her own blue orbs. A hidden emotion, long since forgotten by his childlike self, beckoned to her from within but quickly as it flamed, he extinguished it.

"You blame yourself for the gift you gave me. But, do you not realize that I do not? Perhaps I did need you, when I was weak, a mere child. But as I grew, I became increasingly more aware of the power I commanded, of the greatness of that gift. And in exchange, mother, I _forgave_ you."

The smile on his handsome face was one of sweet and fleeting grief and her heart broke yet again, for the innocence that her child had been robbed of.

"You gave me broken wings, mother. But I will still fly."

He rose, his eyes shining with unshed tears and turned away from the ghostly shadow that reached despairingly for him.

"No."

The simple statement released the desperate sob that had been threatening to rip from her throat, and she fought against the yawning chasm that was deepening between them. Already the bond between mother and child was hanging by a thread and when Seymour denied her, it snapped.

Stunned with the realization that he was lost to her, her cries subsided, fading into a heavy silence that hung like a thick blanket of fog over them.

"Seymour…I only ever loved you. If you take nothing else from here, remember that. _Believe_."

For a moment, she thought he would run back to her but he walked away, a serene peace settling over his features. The fayth stood alone, watching him draw further and further away, both in body and spirit.

"I forgive you, Seymour. _I forgive you_."

But her whispered confession was lost to him, fading into the cracked walls of the chamber, seeping into the cold waters that surrounded the temple.

Seymour refused to look back, even though his soul was crying out for the comfort and love that had been denied to him for so many years and he forcibly crushed the urge to run back to his mother.

With a heavy heart, he began to gather his powerful energy and he focused on the inner link that bound him to the aeon, Anima. He breathed in deeply, before yanking the mental chains embedded in his soul and calling to the feared beast.

"Feel my pain… come Anima!" the shout tore from him was one of exultation and frenzied anger at seeing the woman who had birthed him.

The sky above the temple darkened, swirling with a livid red and black as chains descended from the heavens, smashing into the earth with a resounding crash. The terrible roar grew louder in his ears as the creature rose from the earth, struggling against the chains that dragged it from the pits of hell. The beast finally freed itself from the cracks from which it emerged, and the bellow of pain threatened to shake the skies but Seymour felt a rush of love and supremacy that rendered him speechless.

"Anima… you are my wings!" he shouted triumphantly.

The beast roared in agony and Seymour smiled, raising his face to the sun breaking through the clouds above. Raising one hand, he brought it crashing down in the direction of the temple and he felt the rush of energy as Anima prepared to unleash its tremendous power on the devastated temple.

"Release my _torment_!"

The black lance of pure energy struck the temple, sending a wave of dark water surging over the surrounding ruins and shattering the stone pillars. Seymour calmly watched the entrance crumble in a muted roar, overshadowed by the bellow of tortured anguish from his aeon.

Blood dripped steadily from the eyes of the great beast; the tears of sin running down the ridged skin and Seymour finally unclenched his palm, allowing his own blood to drip to the ground. The release was sweet, as if a heavy weight had finally been lifted from him and the opening of the temple disappeared slowly under the black waters that swarmed greedily after the terrible blow.

"It is done," he whispered. "None shall ever receive the power that is the inheritance of my birth."

The soft, anguished crooning from Anima caught his attention and his gaze traveled upwards, to see the bloodstained face of his mother's spirit. He felt a rush of mingled disgust and love, dismissing the aeon with an elegant wave of one hand.

Surrounded by the soft light of the dissipating fayth, Seymour stood still for a long time, staring at the ruins that he had created. Even after the light had gone, he stood in the darkness, wrapped in the cold embrace of the swirling mists.

Where he would remain, ensnared by evil, until the love of a summoner would bring him back into the light with her gentle embrace.

**The End. **


End file.
